


Chasing New York

by irish_gold



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist!Harry, M/M, New York AU, boxer!niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irish_gold/pseuds/irish_gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall’s tired, Harry’s just broken.<br/>~<br/>Or the one where Niall's an Irish boxer and Harry's an artist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing New York

**Author's Note:**

> Just like to thank Snow Patrol and The Script for giving me this idea, listening to Chasing Cars and For the First Time for two straight days on repeat kind of takes a toll on you. I dunno why I wrote this taking place in the US since I've only been to NY like four or six times. Eh whatever tell me what you think. xxx  
> 

Pink scars littered his body, purple bruises outlining the scars. His mouth opened letting out a gasp of pain, his pale fingers poked and peeled at the remaining scars and bruises.

He bit his lip to keep from screaming out in pain, he closed his eyes trying to blink away unshed tears that threated to fall at any moment. In his head only one thought ran through his mind, _‘Do not run. Do not cry. Do not let this pain take you.’_ Words that weren’t even his gave him a reassurance, gave him a reason to push away these dark memories that threatened to overpower him.

 _‘Do not run. Do not cry. Do not let this pain take you.’_ His head chanted, little by little Niall traced over his own scars, his body yelled at him to stop. To stop creating that pain that made him cringe that made his blood turn cold.

 _‘Do not run. Do not cry. Do not let this pain take you.’_ He wished that those words could actually mean something to him not just thirteen words split up into three sentences.

He gasped as his finger landed on a particularly new cut. His blue eyes opened widening, his blood ran cold and his body cringed in pain.

He let out a moan of pain, ‘ _Donotrun.Donotcry.Donotletthispaintakeyou’_ the words were thrown together, mixing up in his mind making it hard for him to understand a single thought.

His left hand shook in despair and without thinking he looked down at his pale torso. The scar was pink blood surrounding it.

It was a sight he was quite used to seeing. The crimson thick liquid slowly trailed down his cut making him hiss out in pain.

He closed his eyes for a brief second managing to blink tears away. There was no reason to cry when these feelings were anything but new.

His pale finger was now tainted with thick red blood, bringing it up for his eyes he examined it, something about his own blood made him want to puke.

He brought his index finger to his thumb slowly mixing the blood with a purple bruise on the soft skin.

_‘Do not run.’_

_‘Do not cry.’_

_‘Do not let this pain take you.’_

___

___

___

The gauze wrapped around his fist gave him slight comfort that no one else could. ‘Ready kid?’ He looked up to see a stalky man grinning down at him.

His hands were clasped together behind his back; he wore a black shirt and dark jeans. Niall all but rolled his eyes at the man; the man thought he look intimidating.

‘I was born ready.’ He spat back at the man, he pushed himself off from the cold cement bench, with a single swift movement he grabbed the black boxing gloves that were sat beside him.

He put them on making sure they were tight and fitting. ‘You get a minute before I call your name and when I do you enter. Understand?’ The stalky man said his grin etching away from his face.

Niall scoffed, ‘I’ve done this before.’ He said before glaring at the man.

‘Don’t catch an attitude with me kid! I’m not one of those amateur boxers you fight with.’ The man said scolding the blond.

Niall sighed, ‘Whatever.’ He muttered.

He knew that he could take this guy any time, the guy maybe taller and have more muscle than Niall but no one could ever beat Niall at his own game.

‘That’s better.’ The guys said before turning out of the locker room and slamming the door on his way out.

Niall could already hear the crowd cheering and hear the man yelling into the microphone with feign enthusiasm.

Niall’s heart quickened its pace; he let out another breath and advanced to the door.

 ‘ _Do not run. ‘_

_‘Do not cry.’_

_‘Do not let this pain take you.’_

___

___

___

Niall walked into the arena his heart still beating obnoxiously fast. The crowd cheered as they saw him walk in.

Grinned at them lifting up his blacked glove hands onto the air. ‘Niall Horan!’ The stalky man from earlier yelled into the mic his face turning red in the process.

Niall walked to the rink slipping between the ropes easily and with grace, once standing beside the man he jumped on his two feet.

Swaying left to right. ‘And on the other side we have Josh Devine…’ Niall tuned out the rest of the man’s introduction finding no reason to listen to the next guy he’d beat up.

Best to keep it at distance; make it easier to beat the kid without giving him mercy.

 _‘Knowing his name is enough’_ Niall thought and looked to the left and watched as a guy a few inches taller than him walk into the arena, a cocky smirk on his face.

Niall growled under his breath, another smug bastard he had to beat the living lights out of, Niall would certainly enjoy this match.

Josh got into the rink slipping in with less grace then Niall; he walked to where the man and Niall were stood, in the middle of the rink.

He grinned at the blond before focusing on the man; Niall rolled his eyes but went to look at the referee. ‘Y’all know the rules. Questions?’ The man said looking between both boys.

Niall suppressed another eye roll, referee didn’t even give the rules, he shook his head at the same time Josh did.

‘Okay then, bump fist.’ The man said moving a step back to let the men approach each other. Niall took a step towards Devine.

The brunet brought his red gloves and tapped them to Niall’s black ones, they nodded in acknowledgement.

The referee once again walked to the center trailing with the mic, he brought it to his lips before whispering into it, ‘Let the fight begin.’

The bell that was in a corner hidden behind masses of people and benches rung, Niall looked at Josh.

They circled around each other daring the other to make the first move. It took Niall ten seconds to figure out Josh wouldn’t be throwing the first punch so with a movement of his fist he brought one to the front of Josh’s face. Punching the boy right in the nose.

He could hear Josh’s soft groan, he internally grinned already having the upper hand within a minute into the match.

Josh glared at him as he felt blood pour out of his nostrils. He brought his fist up to collide into Niall’s face but missed as Niall ducked down.

With the distraction Niall punched Josh in the torso, the brunet groaned and cringed bringing his gloved fist to his stomach.

The crowd cheered at the blood and pain that was already emitting from the match. Niall put his arms around Josh’s neck and bent him down bringing up his knee.

The brunet whimpered as he felt the bonny knee make contact with his eye.

Niall pushed him and landed another punch in Josh’s face.

Niall grinned as the brunet fell to the floor. This match wouldn’t last much longer; he brought his fist up again bouncing from one foot to another.

He was about to throw another punch when suddenly the bell rung from the corner already telling them that the first round was over.

‘To your corners!’ The man said glaring at both men. Niall nodded his head and turned around.

‘ _Do not run.’_

_‘Do not cry.’_

_‘Do not let this pain take you.’_ His eyes closed for a brief moment before he opened them again, the sounds of the crowds chattering were muffled by his chief corner man, Liam.

‘You got two more rounds left, make the most of them.’

___

___

___

His longer fingers traced over the dark marks on the wall, his eyes roamed around the white room making sure to take in all of the colours and brush strokes.

‘Your paintings would’ve been up there.’ Harry didn’t flinch when he heard the stiff voice instead he kept his gaze on the sketch in front of him.

‘If you’re trying to get me back into art just know my answer still remains no. You can’t change my mind.’ Harry finally spoke his voice raising no more than the soft blow of the wind outside.

Harry turned and looked at Zayn, his face hollow and stubble outlining his jaw. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’ Harry added smiling a little.

Zayn just shook his head and turned to the drawing Harry had just been looking at; he pointed to it and said ‘Tomlinson did that.’

Harry raised an eyebrow, ‘Really?’

‘Yup, it‘s something he’s been working on for a few months now.’ Zayn said a hint of pride glinted in his hazel eyes.

Harry glanced back at the drawing, his fingers found the wall again, his fingers traced over the drawing a shiver ran down his back. Once again feeling the smooth feel of dry paint on an empty canvas.

‘He misses you.’ Zayn spoke up again his eyes burning holes in Harry’s back, Harry sighed but his gaze on the painting already knew the look Zayn was giving him, one of pain and hurt. ‘I’m not coming back Zayn.’

‘I never asked you to come back.’ Zayn said his arms crossed over his chest showing off the colourful tattoos that littered his forearm.

Harry had his own tattoos that reminded him of a lifetime that he no longer lived, a lifetime that Harry abandoned. A lifetime that Harry wishes to live once again.

Memories of nights Harry had stayed up with Louis and Zayn filled his thoughts, days spent smoking a riff with Zayn whilst painting a random drawing, or going out for a smoke late night with Louis engulfed his mind.

He closed his eyes letting those memories remind him of days that Harry could say he spent with a smile on his face, days that Harry wished to go back too.

‘I miss painting Zayn.’ He admitted his eyes already filled with tears.

‘Then come back.’ Zayn said cautiously his voice low and gruff a sound that Harry had missed hearing, a voice that Harry hadn’t heard for more than three years.

‘I—I can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘I need to take care of Gemma…’

‘How long has it been since you last painted Harry?’ Zayn asked ignoring Harry’s weak excuse from before, he looked at Harry’s pale face his cheeks were hollow dark bags resided under his eyes.

Zayn resisted the urge to wrap his arms around the younger boy, ‘I—I don’t know.’

‘How long Harry?’

‘Three years.’ Harry finally said opening his eyes he dared his gaze on the tanned boy. His eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the cramped flat.

‘Three years? _Three years,_ Harry? What have you been doing all these days—‘

‘Working! Working my butt off to provide for my family! For my mum! God dammit Zayn, she had cancer! She was dying long before I even knew what did you expect me to do? Continue living life whilst my mum slowly died? I needed to buy all these medications, these—these treatments! Treatments that cost so much money, Zayn!’ Harry said his voice broke and a sob escaped his lips.

‘I couldn’t continue being happy whilst my mum died! I had to help her in some way! Gemma left for uni, my father left us after he found out my mum had cancer—I had to grow up! I had to grow up and take care of her.’ Harry admitted his hands turning pale as he fisted them.

‘I—I…’ Zayn trailed off not finding words, he was shocked. Zayn was never at loss of words.

‘I want to paint again, Zayn. I want to hold a paintbrush in my hand again; I want to draw with charcoal again! I—I want to. I want to be happy again.’

_

_

_

Niall growled in anger, his pale face was tainted with dried up blood. His hands were in fist covering his face.

‘Not so good anymore, Horan?’ Josh said a smug smirk playing at his lips. He pushed the small blond towards the centre.

‘Come on Horan, throw a punch!’

Niall could hear Liam screaming out instructions to him; he begged his ears to open up to understand the words that were being thrown at him.

‘C’mon Horan!’ Josh said again pounding his gloves on his chest he made a motion for Niall to advance at him.

Niall didn’t understand he was doing so good the first two rounds, punching Josh with blows that sent the brunet tumbling into the floor.

Why was he now losing to him? Niall heaved in a breath, closed his eyes and let another punch come to his face. He tasted the copper in his mouth.

He was sent flying to the floor the matted rink made him relax under the bright lights. His head pounded with voices and cheers.

‘Get up! Niall! Get up Niall!’ He could hear Liam’s gruff voice from behind him; he could already imagine his brown eyes hard with anger, his fingers fisted against the red rope.

‘Get up!’ Niall felt his body being kicked to the side, pain shot through his torso making him cringe and groan in pain.

‘Come on Horan! Get up! Stop layin’ around like a pussy and fight me!’ He heard Josh yell from over him. He closed his eyes no longer being able to stand the bright white lights.

‘ _Do not run.’_

Niall whimpered as Josh delivered another blow to his chest.

_‘Do not cry.’_

He could hear the sound of the cheers gasps and shouts for him to get up. He could hear the beating of his own heart _thump, thump_.

_‘Do not let this pain take you.’_

He opened his gaze for a brief second and before him the referee was crouched a small smirk on his lips. He felt Josh land on him causing Niall to let out a breath.

With a single blink the world turned black and before he knew it he could hear the sound of victory calling out Josh’s name.

‘1. 2. 3.’

_Ding, ding!_

Niall lost.

_

_

_

He’s awake before he knows it, his dark blue eyes opening to the grey world that seemed to linger off of the gym.

His breathing is ragged and body was screaming for mercy. The lights in the gym were off only a lit candle in the corner reminding him that he wasn’t alone, that the pain shooting through his body would be healed by his trainer, Liam.

He could still hear the crowd chanting his name pressuring him into believing that he would win once again. He could still hear Liam’s instructions on getting back up.

To at least kick the guy in the shin, for god’s sake Niall just do something!

‘You’re awake.’ Liam’s American accent was comfort to the Irish lad.

‘I’m awake.’ He repeated closing his mouth as he tasted the crimson red blood on his lips. Another reminder that he had lost.

‘Are you feeling alright?’

‘I lost.’ Niall said ignoring Liam’s question finally processing what had happened merely hours ago.

‘I lost.’ He repeated his voice showing no shock or anger, or sadness  just bluntness.

Liam stood beside him silent, what was he supposed to say? ‘It’s alright Niall, everyone loses’? What kind of friend would he be if he said that?

But then again Liam was not just Niall’s friend; he was his coach, his trainer. ‘There’s more matches coming up.’ Is what he ends up saying he tried to contain the small prick at his heart stabbing him with guilt.

Liam was speaking as Niall’s trainer. Not a friend.

Niall processed the words that seemed so foreign to his own ears just like the way Liam’s voice was deep and hollow hearing no emotion.

‘Many more matches you could win.’ Liam said.

Yeah Niall had many more matches coming up, but losing one was enough to send him questioning his own dreams.

_Many more matches._

_

_

_

The canvas sat on the easel was just there. Just sat there bare, blank and still white with no markings or paints.

His fingers were curled around a pencil, holding it with excruciating pain. He blinked once daring the canvas to come to life. He waited for something—anything to happen.

‘You know you have to actually draw something, right?’ He blinked again turning to look at Zayn, he was holding a cup of coffee.

‘Can’t find anything to draw.’ Harry admitted shrugging and turning back around when Zayn walked to where he was sat on the stool.

‘Thought ’d be easy to just come back after three years and be able to draw like you used to do?’

‘Nah. Knew there’d be difficulties, well a little less but I guess I had it comin’ for me.’ Harry said shrugging again.

He sighed and snatched the cup from Zayn’s hand, the warmth of the drink radiated off of the cup making him shiver with pleasure.

He took a sip of it finally letting the drink burn his tongue. The taste of coffee from the deli just around the corner was a comfort for harry, finally being able to grasp onto something so familiar.

Something that painting no longer was to him. He took another sip of the burning liquid before handing it back to Zayn.  ‘Needs more sugar mate.’

Zayn chuckled and rolled his eyes, ‘Not all of us have a knack of putting a lot of sugar in our drinks. You just ‘ave a sweet tooth, mate.’  Zayn said.

Harry grinned at the American and twirled the pencil in his fingers, ‘When’s Lou coming?’

‘’Bout an hour or so, ‘s got this gallery opening to attend.’ Out of all of them Louis is the one who cared less about art, so hearing that he had attended a gallery surprised Harry quite a bit.

‘Gallery opening?’

‘Yup, after you left he took over your spot. Got addicted to painting. He didn’t sleep for days because he was so focused on finishing this painting.’ Zayn said and took a sip from the coffee.

‘Really? Never thought Lou’d be the one to take my place here. Always thought it’d be you or even Ed, but not Louis.’

‘Kids full of surprises.’ Zayn said smirking at Harry.

‘How’s Ed doing?’

‘Dunno, haven’t talked to him in a few months.’

‘What’appened?’

‘Opened his own tattoo parlor in down town Manhattan,’ Zayn said and dropped the empty blue cup on the floor kicking it to the corner of the room. The cup hit the wall with a loud _thud._

Harry sighed, ‘I missed a lot didn’t I?’

“What’ya expect? Thought we’d stop living just because you stopped?’

Harry went silent his heart dropped at the words and with a quick motion he pulled Zayn into a hug, ‘’M sorry Zayn. I’m so sorry.’

And he wished that saying sorry was enough, that apologizing would be the answer to three years gone missing from a life that haunted his dreams.

‘Can’t say it’s okay, but ‘m glad your back Harry.’

He was glad too.

_

_

_

The sun rose in the east making Niall jolt awake just in time, he was sat in the train, the seven. The train was empty except for a few people, a mother with her child resting on her lap, a man with battered clothes and a dirty face, and an old woman with eyes like a hawk.

The morning was too early for anyone else to be awake, the train wheels hit the metallic tracks making the passengers jump a little in their seats.

Niall looked at the old woman, her eyes were on the homeless man sat in the corner and now that Niall looked closely he could see a clear glass bottle of bear in his hands.

The old woman scoffed and rolled her eyes turning her head to look out the window, she watched as the buildings in Flushing pass by.

Niall tore his gaze from the woman and went back to trying to get some shut eye before he got to the gym. The train suddenly stopped the man controlling the train announced to the rest on the cart that they were in 61st street.

‘’Scuse me? Someone sittin’ there?’ Niall opened his eyes staring back at man with unruly curly hair and green eyes that shown bright in the morning haze.

Niall gulped, who still asked to sit in a train? ‘It’s empty.’ Niall responded and motioned for the boy to take a seat.

The curly haired boy smiled and sat down pulling his satchel up from where it was rested across his shoulders. ‘Thanks.’ The boy said and Niall couldn’t help but notice the thick New York accent in his voice.

‘No problem.’ He said back at the boy.

The train went back to a silence all the passengers focusing on their own stuff, to drowsy to speak or in Niall’s case loss for words.

He breathed in trying to calm his racing heart; he swore to himself that the whole cart could hear the pounding of his heart.

‘You from around ‘ere?’ Niall looked back at the curly haired boy.

He shook his head, ‘Moved here from Ireland, though I’ve been living in New York for seven years now.’ Niall admitted blushing when he realized he was babbling.

Harry smiled, ‘So you’re like really lucky, right? I’m mean luck of the Irish?’ Niall chuckled at the boy.

‘And you can hold your beer right?’ Niall rolled his eyes but grinned at Harry.

‘Not lucky but I can definitely hold my pints.’

‘Names Harry.’ The boy said thrusting out his hand for Niall to shake.

‘Niall.’

‘Well it’s nice to meet you Niall.’ Niall couldn’t help but notice how slow Harry talked; it took him longer to finish a sentence.

‘You talk slow mate.’ Niall blurted out his eyes widened as he realised what he had said. Harry laughed, ‘I know, man everyone tells me that!’ Niall laughed.

The old woman sat across from them glared at Niall and put her fingers to her lips saying, ‘Shh.’  Harry smiled apologetically, ‘Sorry ma’am.’ The woman smiled at Harry and turned to look at Niall waiting for an apology. Niall rolled his eyes and flicked the bird making the woman gasp with surprise.

‘Free country,’ He said before turning to look at Harry again.

‘I like you Ireland.’

‘I like you too… American?’

_

_

_

There he was again. Sat on a stool with a blank canvas before him, his shirt discarded hours ago. This time his mind was not clear, instead piercing blue eyes and electric blond hair was all that ran through his thoughts.

He picked up the pencil and lightly pressed it to the canvas.

 ‘ _When she die?’_

_‘Six months ago,’ Harry said his eyes slightly watering at the fresh memory; he could still see his mother’s lifeless body on the hospital bed._

_Her hands were wrapped around Harry’s neck cold and slack but still holding on to him. ‘I’m sorry.’ Niall said he looked down shame evident in his posture._

_‘’S alright, not like there’s anyone to blame. She died,‘s a way of life.’ Harry shrugged._

_‘How’d she die?’_

_‘Cancer, doctors found a tumor in her brain…’_

_‘Must’ve been harsh watching your mum going through all those therapy sessions and what not?’_

_‘Not as hard as watching her try to stand up or try to talk without coughing.’ Harry said blinking away tears._

_‘You’re not gonna cry on me, right? ‘Cause this is my favourite shirt.’ Niall said looking skeptical; Harry laughed a wet sound as he brushed away a few stray tears._

_‘Don’t worry mate wouldn’t dream of ruining your shirt.’ Harry was glad to get off the subject of his mother’s recent death._

Harry moved the pencil on the canvas finally being able to draw without his mind jumbling up his thoughts.

It felt like a brush of fresh air when he drew a swirl on the canvas.

_‘So what do you do?’_

_‘’M a boxer.’ Niall admitted and pointed to the purpling bruise on his jaw. Harry raised a brow and bit his lip._

_‘Boxer? That’s adventurous.’_

_‘Yup.’_

_‘So you like beat up people for living?’ Harry asked his gaze stuck on the bruise._

_‘Pretty much.’_

_‘That’s cool mate.’_

His hands moved quick drawing swirls and lines his gaze stuck on the canvas though his thoughts were elsewhere.

The canvas no longer was bare it was full of lines and swirls that meant nothing to the untrained eye but to Harry it meant more.

_‘Why’d you move to New York?’_

_‘Thought it’d be best to get a new life somewhere far away from home. Somewhere I don’t have to be constantly reminded that I don’t belong.’_

Harry pushed the pencil point harder to the canvas, he gritted his teeth.

_‘I wanted a new life.’_

_

_

_

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would be much appreciated and all mistakes here are all my own. xxx


End file.
